Hidden Sky
by Gentleman's Alliance
Summary: All things considered, my death had been a peaceful one. But... had I known then the horror my new life would become, I would have never opened my eyes. SI/OC, Dark Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Verse. Concepts from Araceil will be incorporated with permission.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** The character's aren't mine, except of course for the OC and any other OC's that may pop up to move the story along. Canon characters belong to Akira Amano

* * *

There was a certain peace to be found in drowning, of that I could surely attest to. My body felt weightless in the water, instead of sinking I felt as if I were floating, lost in the large expanse of sea. Those lucky enough to have never experienced this would assume panic and fear to be in the forefront of my mind, except it wasn't; hadn't been since those first few tense moments. Those earlier moments had been filled with terrified screams and helpless pleads for rescue, filled with loud hacking coughs as my limbs tried in vain to keep me afloat against the vicious tide.

But that had been the first moments only.

Now there was no panic or fear, my limbs had long since given up the desperate fight for survival and now fell limply to my sides. I knew with absolute certainty, that I would not be saved in time, that I was dying.

I hadn't wanted to die.

I was only in my early twenties, there had still been so much I wanted to see, so much I wanted to do. It's odd, that in these final moments how the most mundane of thoughts would enter my mind. I had forgotten to lock my door this morning, having already been rushing about my home when the loud honk of a horn alerted me to the fact that my friends had arrived. I hadn't called my mother when I arrived here, having forgotten in the earlier excitement. My father was to pick me up in an hour, as I had promised him I would visit home after being gone for a month. At that thought a pang a grief broke through my eerie calm, as I came to realize that by the time my father arrived, he would be greeted to a corpse instead of his daughter.

How I wished I could spare him from that horror.

A part of me wanted to fight still, though it grew fainter with every passing moment. I didn't want to make my parents suffer, I didn't want to be the cause of their tears… but my arms felt so heavy, even the very thought of moving them proved to be too much. One of my arms were stretched out before me, the waves the only thing capable of moving my limp body now. My fingers appeared deathly white under dark blue of the water, my skin already taking on a deathly pallor the closer I came to death. I stared with waning focus as my fingers twitched ever so slightly, the only movement I found myself still capable of.

A common misconception was that I would feel each painful intake of salt water. Yet it amazed me to discover that besides the first few moments, I didn't even notice the fact that instead of much needed oxygen, my lungs were filling themselves up with water.

That's not to say that I was ignorant of what was happening to me. I knew I was breathing in water, that with every lungful of liquid instead of the air I needed that my life was slowly draining away, yet my body held no notice of this. For that I suppose I was thankful; at the very least, my death would be peaceful and without pain. Using the last spurts of energy I still possessed I tilted my head upwards, staring up at the sky above me. It was late noon, at least it had been when I first fell, and my father would already be on his way to meet me. The bright yellow haze from earlier had now taken on a brilliant orange hue. The ocean laid illuminated before me, and out of the corner of my eyes I could see small schools of fish looking towards me in curiosity before scurrying away. I took in another lungful of water, the action comforting regardless of how fatal it was.

I only had a few breaths left to me after all, might as well make the most of it while I still could.

Idly my thoughts flitted back to the sky, even here, beneath the endless ocean, the bright orange hue still fought ferociously against the endless blue, shining it's might down upon it. In a sense, it was almost awe inspiring, and so I decided, if I had to die…

Then I'm happy the last thing I saw was something so beautiful.

Faintly I realized that the water was being disturbed, and that someone had grabbed hold of my waist. Yet instead of feeling hope, I felt peace. I could hear my heart, once beating so frantically in my chest now slowing to an almost halt. My vision was blurring, and the dark spots I had been trying in vain to ignore now seemed to encompass all that I saw. And yet I kept looking up at the sky as my body was brought ever closer to it. I was stubborn and the last thing I wished to see, was that beautiful hue. And so, as my heart came to a stop, and my eyes finally closed, the last image to be burned into my mind was of a blinding orange light.

It was a rather peaceful end, all things considered, and in hindsight, it was almost a gift.

For the next time my eyes opened, peace would be nothing but a fond dream.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _So this is me testing the waters so to speak. Many of the SI stories feature an OC who's pretty awesome, powerful and a bad ass. But for the most part, mines won't be like that. Not to say they'll be weak, but they won't be the strongest either, I wanted to take a different approach to this genre, so I hope you guys like it. Warning again that this will be slash later on though. Enjoy and please review if you like this story!_

 _Also in case anyone's curious, Grim Fact #1: I have actually almost fatally drowned twice in my life, and both times I remember after the starting panic feeling a sense of peace and not even realizing that I was no longer breathing air. So I decided to based my OC's death on this since that's the only near death i'm actually familiar with. Though granted I didn't have so much time to think over so many things like my character did, take that instead as artistic license. Chapter 1 will be uploaded soon for anyone curious, and will be our first view into the KHR world! Hope you've enjoyed and please leave a review if you did!_


	2. The Colour Red

**Disclaimer:** Same as chapter one, has not changed at all since chapter one nor will it ever.

* * *

I never knew my mother.

I would wonder about her, late at night when I was sure the guard's attentions were elsewhere. Sometimes I would even dream about her, wondering endlessly on what sort of person my mother had been. Had she been beautiful and kind? Was she a fiery woman who would show anyone who thought to challenge her just how strong she was? Or had she been softhearted, always willing to help those in need with a kind smile on her lips and a warm meal to tide them by when times were rough.

Then when those endless questions failed to give me answers, I would lie awake, the gentle humming of the machinery around me my only company as I laid still in my incubator and wondered... had my mother loved me?

She had carried me for almost eight months, had ensured my survival by doing so, but had she been willing? Had she even wanted me? Did she ever care for me, if only a little?

Had she… had they not…

My mother… would she have held me in her arms and rocked me to sleep? And her touch, would it have been warm and gentle, filled with love and care? Would she have sang me countless lullabies on nights when sleep escaped me... On days when I was ill, would she have cared for me? Fed me soup and caressed my hair while waiting for my fever to abate. Would she have wiped away my tears and made the pain go away when I fell or hurt myself?

Sadly, I would never know.

For, from the moment I was born, was the moment my mother was sentenced to death.

* * *

In my first life, the idea of rebirth had been a small but incredibly strong passion of mine. I would read countless tomes and stories on the subject, till my vision was blurred and my eyes left aching. My vigour for the subject was unmatched, and I would spend numerous happy hours debating theological thoughts with my professors. The librarians became close friends as my library became a second home, though that was thanks more to my research papers then to my side studies. It had fascinated me, the idea of living again once my time was at it's end. Sometimes I would even daydream about it, imagining all sorts of outlandish scenarios. I would dream of being reborn as the son of a noble, being well known for my chivalry as I rose the ranks of Knighthood and partook in many glorious adventures with my friends and allies. Or perhaps I would be reborn as a girl, my appearance delicate and graceful, able to charm many of the men in court while still being able to play the political arena in a way they never could, rising in power and showing my worth to the nobles who would look down on me thanks only to my gender. And yet their biting remarks would never hurt, my eyes would always shine with a mischievous glint, my lips turned up into a sly smile as I played their game and won. Or maybe, though the thought wasn't as exciting as the others, the hindu's were the ones to get rebirth right, and I would be reborn as a puppy or maybe even a bird, though granted I had always wondered how it would feel like to fly...

I should have known that should rebirth exist, it wouldn't have been as simple as my daydreams made it out to be, nor would it have been as happy either.

I was born in a cold and dark room. The walls were made of stone and held a dungeon like feel to them for all that they were well kept and clean. Surrounding me on all sides were only men, all of them wearing the same long white lab coat, similar to those a doctor or perhaps scientist would wear. A few wore mask, hiding most of their face save their cold and unwelcoming eyes. Their expressions were for the most part similar, they seemed almost uninterested in the proceedings as they talked quietly amongst themselves, ignoring with ease my mothers loud and heart breaking sobs.

This was not a hospital, of that I was sure, and neither were these men doctors for all that they had helped deliver me into this world.

There was no care or compassion in how they held me, only a cold and detached clinicalness that served to make sure any cry I would dare utter was silence long before the sound could even reach my lips. They weighed me and took my measurements, their voices almost monotonous and without much if any inflection. Their hands were covered with thin plastic gloves, making their touch feel cold and foreign against my bare skin. I flinched as they dropped some sort of clear liquid into my eyes, making them burn for a moment but also helping to clear my sight. My mouth parted in surprise and I took a sharp breath as a needle was inserted into my upper leg. There was a small stab of pain as whatever they'd given me was injected into my bloodstream. My body shivered from the cold, and I desperately craved some sort of warmth. However, any wants I could have had were pushed aside as they continued their examination of me, their eyes held a satisfied gleam, and I could only imagine that so far my results had been favourable to them.

Throughout this all, as I kept silent and tried to look around at the strange room I had been born into, I could hear my mother's cries.

The sound was loud and heart-wrenching. She was crying for me, I realized. Begging them to let her hold me, to see me. When her requests were denied she also began to scream for someone, a man who I assumed may have been my father; she was crying out for him to rescue us.

He never came.

I don't know why I kept quiet. A part of me wanted to make a sound, no matter how small to help assure my mother that I was alright, that everything would be fine, but a greater part of me, the one that had lived before knew I should stay quiet. Something was terribly wrong with this situation, I knew I should not have been born here. I should not have to be listening to my mother beg to these heartless men and for her desperate pleas to go unanswered. Something had gone wrong, and I was too weak to do much if anything about it. So I stayed quiet, not a single cry left my lips as my heart thudded loudly against my chest with slowly growing fear and foreboding.

And yet…

I wanted to see her… I wanted to see my mother.

As the examination came to an end I began to squirm, little movements that did little of anything but helped me to move just the slightest bit. I could just make out the bed she laid on. My eyes widened at the blood covering the once starch white sheets, the amount of it staining them a deep red. I knew something was wrong, that there shouldn't be so much blood, and throwing all caution to the wind, I let out a whimper, the tiniest and softest sound I could possibly create. It drew her attention to me, and while I could still not see her I heard as she tried to jump out of the bed, the men rushing over to restrain her as her screams and cries grew louder and piercing.

One of the men, this one with a far softer expression on his features then the others came over and scooped me up from the scale I had been laying on before. My mouth parted slightly in shock, still not used to just how small I now was. He held me close to his chest, his hand under my head and holding me with a gentleness I hadn't thought these men capable of. His touch was warm and for the first time since I was born I wasn't shivering from the painful and biting cold. His eyes were a soft hazel and his lips turned up into a small smile as he gazed down at me. While I didn't realize it then, I would later muse on how there was something so wrong about the smile he had given me.

He walked me over to my mother, whispering to one of the men as he passed them by only to receive a curt nod in response. I barely paid them any mind, my eyes trying to swallow in my first glimpse of the woman who had given birth to me.

She was beautiful.

Her hair was long, a dark chestnut colour that fell down to her back in loose curls. It looked impossibly soft and I craved to be taken closer to her so I could easily run my tiny fingers through her long locks and marvel at it more. Her eyes were large and doe like, the colour an impossible green that caught my attention and kept it. Her sun kissed skin was pale from the no doubt traumatic birth she had gone through, and in closer examination I could see dark bags under her eyes that showed just how tired and exhausted she was. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, crystalline tears starting to collect at the corners of her eyes as her hands shakily reached out as if to try and grab hold of me. She wore a simple hospital shift and was covered in blood from earlier. To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world; and I doubt my opinion on that will ever change.

"Please..." She begged, tears falling down her cheeks as she moved forward in a vain attempt to reach me. "Please."

The man holding me merely smiled. He told her something, though at the time I could make no sense of it, I could only watch as her expression slowly shifted from pleading to horrified. She started to scream again, shouting out countless denials as she reached for me, and in return, I her.

Neither of us saw the glint of metal, we only heard the aftermath.

The sound reverberated through the room, and for a moment, I thought I would surely go deaf.

Instead I was left with a sharp ringing noise in my ears. Everything else had dulled down to an almost nonexistent murmur. I watched dazedly as blood started to quickly flow across the once white sheets. Yet it did not stop there, looking up dazedly I could see large splatters of blood covering the once pristine walls and machinery. It was only as the ringing began to dull and my senses slowly flooded back to me that I felt something cold and wet on my cheeks, alerting me to the fact that the walls weren't the only thing drenched in blood.

I was taken out of the room then, the man who held me never losing his smile throughout the whole experience.

I should have kept my eyes closed.

I should have never tried to see her.

I should have been content with her cries instead.

The first and last time I saw my mother, was when her blood was splattered across the room I had been born in.

Never had I wished to be blind, as I had wished that day.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _So if it hasn't set in yet… this is going to be a bit of a dark fic. The first part will be a mostly dark fic with some depressing moments, and will also be short in length. Part two is where all the fluffy and happy moments come in… but still with dark. Like seriously guys, while there's some fluff that doesn't mean there's going to be a lot of it, for the most part this is going to be a tad depressing. Though I do like happy endings so we all have that to look forward to! (way… way into the future...) Also please do leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _Story Fact #1: I actually looked up a bit on newborn care for this chapter! The clear drops that stung the characters eyes are a sort of eye drop that is given to newborns to help clear their eyes and make sure they don't get any infections that can cause blindness. The shot they received in their upper leg is a vitamin K shot which helps the blood to clot. And while the examination they had is standard for most newborn, being kept away from their mother and then witnessing said mother's murder is, of course, not standard in any way and is where the fiction element comes back into play._


	3. Monsters can be Human too

**Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1. However, concepts created by Araceil will eventually be included into this story, those belong to her. Beyond that, enjoy.

* * *

As an infant, there was very little for me to do, or to be done for me. For the most part I was kept in isolation. I never saw any other children, and so I had foolishly assumed that it was just me being kept here. Though in truth, it was perhaps merely a hope of mine that it was only me. The thought of more innocents being left in the care of these cold and heartless men was too terrible to dwell on for long. It was much easier to simply believe that they had only decided to take me, and had not included others in their scheme.

My room was not personalized, and were it not for my infant self occupying it, the room would hardly look fit for a newborn. The back wall was lined with a large metal table, which held the scale they would use to weigh me with along with other objects they tended to use on me during my examinations. Another wall held a large metal sink, and that is where my baths took place. I always hated being bathed by them, even if it did grant me my want of being held by someone and treated as if I was human by these callous figures. The water was always just a bit off from warm, and left me in shivers for long after my bath had taken place. It almost felt like ice cold knives on my delicate skin, and with time I came to dread my baths, and the uncomfortable sensations that followed.

It was in the center of the room that I was held. Being born premature, I was left for the most part in an incubator, it was the only time while in their care that I was kept warm. There were various machinery surrounding me, one, attached to me by adhesive pads to my chest was used to monitor my heart and breathing rate. This one I had learned about first hand. After the shock had worn off that first night I had begun to panic, my breathing accelerating as I started to have my first panic attack. An infants lungs are delicate things, for a premature babe, it's even more so. My lungs were underdeveloped and weak, and my panic attack was all they needed to stop working.

In a sense it was ironic, I had left one life just to die after a few scant hours in the next. A sharp shrill had pierced the air following the start of my attack, originating from the machine I had been attached to. At the first sound of the siren a small group of men had rushed in, all of them murmuring things that easily went over my head, the only thing I did notice was as they injected something into me that helped me fall into an uneasy slumber. It was an easy realization to make that they would do their best to make sure I would survive, and an even easier assumption that after my attack, I would be monitored in case of a recurrence.

Another of the things I was attached to came in the form of a tiny cuff around my arm, one that they used to measure my blood pressure with. To help me breath, a small plastic tube was place down my throat, it had felt uncomfortable at first, but as time passed I grew slowly accustomed to the intrusion. On my left hand was a small butterfly needle, taped down to my skin and connected to an IV. What they would give me with the needle changed hourly.

I had realized early that thanks in part to my mouth being blocked, all my nutrition and food was given to me by this needle, and was what helped to keep me alive. There was another one as well, a small tube that had been inserted into a vein on my umbilical cord. Attached to it was a small device that also helped to ascertain my blood pressure. For the most part however, this tube was used for any medicine they deemed me in need of along with other fluids my small body needed in order to sustain itself with.*

Sleep was always hard to come by. My incubator while warm wasn't built for comfort as much as survival. The mat was firm and with all the machinery I was attached to, I couldn't move my body into any other position then the one I was placed in, as it would pull on the wires and in the cases of the needles, would cause me a small bit of pain when pinched. In the early days there would also always be someone around to check on me, making sure the machines were in working order or that I had not run out of fluids from my IV's. It was soon thanks mostly to exhaustion that I was able to sleep at all.

The men, who I considered doctors and scientist in equal measures, were not kind. They never thought to actively seek harm on me, nor did they ever touch me with malicious intent, but rather the detached method they took to caring for my infant self with left much to be desired. There was always a purpose to their touch. Either a shot needed here, some blood taking there, or maybe just an examination to see how I was developing. I was never held for the sake of comfort, and when I was touched at all, they made sure it was quick and efficient.

Outside of my incubator, the air was always damp and chill, making me believe that wherever I was being held, that it was underground. A few things gave credence to this thought, as I could never hear any sounds beyond those of my machinery. Nature was completely cut off from me and my room held no windows. This of course could simply mean that I was in an enclosed space somewhere, but a small nagging thought in my mind was adamant that my first thoughts on the matter were correct.

At times I would wonder why they had wanted me. What had been so special about my birth that they had literally taken me from my mother before I was even ready to face the world. I was useless in truth, there was nothing special about me. I was an infant, and as such there was little I was capable of. I could move my hands from side to side, and could curl up my toes and kick out my leg, but anything else was beyond me. I suppose I was a long term investment, though I couldn't help but wonder what would become of me should I be deemed a failure in their eyes.

They tended to speak in low and hushed tones when around me, perhaps an attempt of theirs to keep my heart-rate low and steady, as loud and harsh tones were known to make the heart race in fear, something they all strove to avoid if possible. Either way, their plan worked. I enjoyed listening to them talk, and more often then not their soft tones would lull me to sleep faster then any lullaby. The language they used was thick on the tongue and sounded almost sensual in how they would pronounce certain words. It took me a while, thanks in part to the feeling of disassociation I experienced during those first few days, but eventually I came to realize that they had been speaking in Italian.

It was not a language I had ever thought to study in my past life, and as such I only knew a few short phrases in that tongue. This of course had the unfortunate side affect of making anything they said go over my head, as the words were simply pure gibberish to me. Though thankfully, I did come to realize that the more certain words and phrases were uttered around me, the more I could start to make out what they were saying while in my presence. I hated the feeling of not knowing, and came to the decision that should the opportunity ever present itself, I would learn as many languages as possible, just so I would no longer have to feel so helpless when surrounded by those who spoke in a different tongue then me.

I was an exceptionally quiet babe, something I knew they were quite thankful for, even if it served to unnerve the few who had been in the company of small children before. Save for the small noise I made on the day of my birth I had not done much else to show that I held full access of my vocal cords. At times when irritated by the cold water they would wash me with I would let out a huff of frustration, or when first experiencing the drastic change from my warm incubator to the cold room, a small sneeze or two. In truth, I'm certain that they enjoyed how much of an agreeable child I was, for the limits on trying to discover why I wouldn't make noise was simply to check my throat and vocal cords biweekly in order to ascertain whether or not they were fully functional.

My thoughts were always muddled in those first few months, except for the knowledge that I needed to be seen as willing to cooperate with their wants and desires. I always tried to present myself as obedient and pliant, though just how obedient a small infant could actually be depended on one's own thoughts on the matter. But no matter what, I wanted them to think of me as useful, to not determine me to be a failure. The thought chilled me to my very core, and always managed to bring about that memory that I would rather keep buried. I was terrified of these men, of the power they held over me, and so I would do my best to survive while in their care. After all, no matter what… I wanted to live.

I wanted to see what this world had to offer, what this world my mother had once lived in was like. And more then anything, there was a promise I had made to myself, one that I would do anything to keep.

I had to find the man who my mother had screamed for. I had to find him and when I did.

I would ask him a simple question.

I would ask him why.

* * *

Loneliness was a cruel and terrible tormentor, and at times I deemed it more monstrous then the men whose care I was kept in. At least with them I knew what to expect, but loneliness would wait till my weakest moment, and fill me with such grief and sorrow that at times I wondered how it was that I had made it past that first year.

I don't think anyone could realize just how lonely and terrible it was being a helpless child. When left alone the room would seem so terribly large, and eager to swallow me whole. I would feel lost and scared, and I came to realize quite quickly why it was that babies would cry for no reason other then to be held. At least then they could be assured that they were not alone. Unfortunately, I was never allowed that luxury.

Instead, when the ache grew to be unbearable, or when the memories of my mother served to have me in near tears, I would turn inward, towards the faint but precious memories I still held from before. They weren't sharp or clear, not like it had been that first day. Many were downright blurry at best, but still I treasured each and every memory I held, and kept them close to my heart.

They were my proof after all, proof that this dark and dreary room wasn't all that there was to the world. I could still remember vast hills and valley's covered in sweet smelling wildflowers. Could still feel the cool grass under my feet during the early morn, the dew covering each small green stalk and leaving my feet stained bright green as a result. Memories of being surrounded at all sides by large corn stalks as I ran around in circles trying to find the end of the maze; my hands sticky with sweets as I giggled and laughed till my ribs hurt and my breath would leave me. My friends would be gathered beside me, our faces covered in chocolate with the odd hard boiled sweet sticking to our cheeks or hair from the rush into the field earlier. Our braids and curls would be limp and sweaty, completely undone and littered with grass and twigs, while bags of sweets were held protectively in our small hands.

There were other memories as well. Of wandering off into the forest while wearing my Sunday best. There I would proudly play the part of a knight, my brother, after much haggling and trading of chores; playing the damsel I was to save. Our stifled giggles doing us no favours as we ran around the dense underbrush, proudly fighting off many fantastic and curious creatures as we saved the day together. My stockings had been ruined beyond repair and the dress my mother had once kept immaculate was covered in grass stains and missing several buttons. Our friends, seeing the fun to be had, promptly joined in, followed later by our parents once they discovered us missing during mass. It was then that I learned there is no fury to be found like that of a parent upon finding their wayward child up to mischief while dressed in their best. It took many pleading looks and excessive use of puppy dog eyes before any of us were forgiven for destroying our clothes. There were peaceful memories as well. Of lazy mornings spent staring out my window, listening idly to birdsong as small sparrows flew overhead, with robins and cardinals playfully joining in. Hazy memories filled with the sound of rain as it pittered pattered against my window, the small droplets of water falling down the glass in quick to slow movements. Of sharing shy kisses under the apple trees, hidden away from the festivities as I wondered if my heart were sure to burst.

Then… there was memories of _them_. Their faces were always blurred, and their voices distorted, but still I knew who they were with all that I was. The memories on them were among the foggiest. And it was with a solemn realization that I discovered of the countless memories I still held, theirs would be among the first to leave me. Yet even as the times spent with them grew vague and distant, and even as I started to lose all knowledge of who they were, there was something that stayed behind. A reassurance, I suppose. For no matter what, I could still remember the love they once held for me, and knew with all my heart, that even if it was different here; there had been a time when I was loved. Once, I had a mother and a father, and both had loved me with all their heart.

And that, more then anything, was enough.

* * *

There were times where I had felt less then human. Those in charge of me would take care of my needs with a precision that even doctors would envy. But in terms of care, love, or comfort; I was left painfully bereft. Every touch I was exposed to was through gloves, never skin, and once more I came to realize just how much I craved to be held as if I was human and wanted.

I would watch, at times, as they moved around me. My incubator was clear, but still managed to distort the image of my caretakers; especially when they moved farther away from me. Even if their attitudes towards me were cold and clinical, I soon came to enjoy their company. It helped to keep the loneliness at bay after all. When they were there I would know for certain that I wasn't as alone as I felt. For the most part, my care was left mainly in the hands of three of these curious men. One of them always wore a surgical mask on the lower half of his face. His eyes were a cold ice blue and yet of all my caretakers, his gaze seemed to be the kindest when directed towards me. His black hair was always slicked back and his skin pale, as if it'd been long since he'd been outside. His neck held a long six inch scar that traveled right up to his ear, and made me wonder how a man who seemed to spend the whole of his days in this dark and dreary room could have manged to gain himself such an injury.

The other two preferred to go sans mask and held faces that had most assuredly seen battle. One held a terrible scar criss-crossing his face from the top of his brow to the bottom of his jaw. His copper hair was usually kept up in spikes and his dull yellow eyes always held an irritated glint in them. He was the youngest of my caretakers, and the most volatile as well. His scar was still a deep vivid red, meaning it must have been healed only recently. The last came by only once a week, mostly to check on my progress along with asking questions to the other two. His face was strangest of the three however, as it was littered with stitches, making a haphazard pattern across his visage. It was almost as if someone had tried to tear apart his skin and failed. Unlike the others, it was rare to see him in a lab coat, as he preferred to wear dark suits instead.

The majority of my care would be left to the one with the mask, while any injections I needed or examinations to be done were left to the one with the horrible scar.

Sometimes I would also see the man who had taken me away from my mother on that fated day. He never came fully into the room, always choosing instead to stand by the door. He would watch some of my examinations, his eyes never leaving me during the whole process, sending countless shivers of unease down my spine. It was after several of these odd visits that I came to realize that most of my unease stemmed from his smile. It never left him, each time I saw him, his lips would always be curled up in that small smile of his, as if the expression had been painted on and he found it difficult to change it in any way.

It was ironic, but in that room filled with odd men and terrifying visages, it was him that I grew to fear the most.

* * *

As a child, time went differently then when I had been an adult. At times I felt as if a single second were an unbearable hour, my chest aching with loneliness as I would wish to see anyone, anyone at all. Then when those who handled my care did arrive, it would seem as if they were gone again in but a moment. My incubator soon became my lone companion during these long and terrible hours, when my handlers were away and the gentle humming of the machinery echoing loudly through the room, showcasing just how alone I truly was. In order to concentrate on anything but the constant ache in my chest I would think up the silliest things, and once found myself entertained for several hours just imagining me and my incubator flying high above the clouds, free from these terrible men with their cold expressions, and able to see the sky and world as much as we desired.

The thought was silly and ridiculous, but it helped to keep me content during my bouts of melancholy, or when certain memories would become far too painful to bear.

I'm not sure for just how long I was kept isolated in that room, with only the daily visits from my caretakers to help me keep track of the passage of time. However, I was perhaps a year old or close to it when it was decided that there was a dire need to help train up my body and have me become mobile.

From what little I could remember from before, babies started to learn to move their bodies by at least three months, usually by using their hands to push their chest up. By six months many of them could crawl and by a year they were mobile. There were numerous milestones in a child's first year of life, and I knew with my lackluster treatment, that I had missed several.

My body had only been given as much nutrients as it needed to survive, and nothing more. When not being moved around from examination to examination I was kept wired up in my incubator, the space slowly growing more cramped and uncomfortable as time went on. There was little to no room to move around, and so I kept still, and my muscles suffered the results of this treatment.

They were worried that I may develop muscle atrophy, as I was already showing small signs that my muscles weren't being used enough and were suffering for it. Thus, in a way that seemed quite sudden, it was decided that they would begin physical therapy to help my muscles get back to where they needed to be.

It was just my luck that they had to pick _that man_ to help me with this.

As always, that small smile of his was placed firmly on his lips when he came to get me for the start of my therapy. It was with a start that I noticed how unlike the others, he had chosen to forgo gloves when handling me. His touch was warm and soft, and it startled to me to discover just how badly I had been craving this, how I had been craving feeling the warmth that came from a human's touch. Even though I feared this man, I couldn't help but lean in closer when he held me, my body greedy for more active sensations besides the sparse few I was given in my usual excursions. I could hear his heart beat from within his chest, the sound soft and steady against my ear, his body heat was unusually high, and even through his clothes he felt warm.

I was placed down on a small rubber mat, my limbs splayed around me as I curiously took everything in. It was a colder then I was used to in the room I had been taken to. Lately they had started to dress me in a small shift, providing me with an extra layer of warmth that I greatly appreciated at this moment. The room I had been taken to laid adjacent to mine, though instead of the usual medical equipment I was used to seeing, it was filled with brightly coloured rubber mats of various sizes, similar to the one I was placed on. There were also small toys to help cognitive thought, such as shapes and building blocks, and even some soft looking teddy bears that I craved to hold and keep. A few of the mats even held stands on top of them, with tiny mirrors and colourful baubles that instantly caught hold of my attention.

Beyond that, there was little else in the room, save for a table and chair that was no doubt for my caretaker to use once I was able to keep myself occupied. Unlike with my other caretakers, I was for the most part left alone with him, save for a guard or two that stayed at the door, always keeping a look out for any unseen enemies.

My training was easy enough in theory, but proved taxing and exhausting to my infant self. For an hour each day he would help me move my arms and legs, his large hands would bring my legs to my chest, hold them there for a moment, and gently bring them back down. For my arms, it would be the same but he would also tickle my palms, trying to get a reaction from me. It was slow work, and by the end of the hour I was dead exhausted and craved my incubator. For once my firm mattress felt as if it were made of clouds and I happily gave into slumber, almost missing the chaste kiss placed on my brow as I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Days passed, followed by weeks and I soon grew used to the new addition to my schedule. I still felt uneasy each time he would enter the room to take me to the practice mats, but the excitement of what I would be allowed to play with next always won over my fear. A week prior I had been allowed to play with a teddy bear after my hourly exercise. It's fur had been just as soft and fluffy as I had imagined. I had been instantly taken by it, choosing to rub my cheek against it's soft stomach, my fingers playing with it's satin ribbon. When it had been time to leave, I had cried for the first time since my birth, unwilling to part with one of the few things to have offered me even the smallest amount of comfort since the start of my time here.

The man had noticed, his eyes taking on a thoughtful gleam as he placed the bear back in my arms, allowing it to come with me into my crib. I had finally been removed from my incubator after the first few lessons, and while I missed the warmth it provided, I enjoyed the much needed space I was now given, and how comfortable my new mattress was. Not to mention the machinery I was attached to had been greatly reduced, and I could now sleep in more comfortable positions. It was with pure wonder on my face that I held my new friend close as I fell into a peaceful slumber that night, a small smile on my lips as I felt the smallest sliver of happiness.

After that, me and my bear, who I had fondly named Bianco had become inseparable. I always carried him everywhere with me, and was amazed that he was allowed to stay with me even during my examinations. He quickly became a dear friend of mine, and the unease I felt with my newest caretaker slowly grew easier to ignore as a result.

When I was taken back into my therapy room, I was surprised that instead of starting my exercises, I was instead placed on one of the mats that held a small stand. I grew curious at this change, and frowning in thought pushed myself into a sitting position as to better take in what was around me. I looked over at my handler, but he seemed content to merely watch me today so I quickly turned my attention back to where I had been placed. The baubles were bright and colourful, making my hands twitched at the thought of grasping hold of them and investigating just what sort of objects they were, but before I could, something else grabbed hold of my attention and wouldn't let it go.

There was a mirror here.

Since I had been reborn into this world, I had yet to see how I looked. Until recently, even my gender had been a mystery, until I had grown curious during a bath and finally came to the thought of simply looking down and finding out for myself. I knew my skin was an odd pale colour, no doubt from never being taken outside, and that my hair was dark, but that was the extent of my knowledge on my own features. But now… now I could _see…_

With barest hints of hesitation I grabbed hold of the mirror with both my hands, my friend placed gently beside me as I took in the first sight of myself.

My hair was exceptionally dark, almost the colour of ink. It was such a far cry from my mother's chestnut colour and even though I had already known, I still felt the sharp sting of disappointment from not being able to look more like her. It was a bit of a curly mess at the moment, they had taken to brushing my locks recently but this morning my hair hadn't been, showing just how tangled and mussed it was from sleep. I had a tiny button nose, one that I was sure would make grandmother's coo in delight. My lips were pouted and a soft pink, opening up my mouth in curiosity I could see some of my milk teeth, feeling proud at the sight of them even if they had been a pain to grow in. I felt disappointed again when I inspected my eyes.

I had been hoping that there was something I could share from my mother, but instead of that soft green colour, it was a warm sky blue that greeted me. Still lovely in their own right, but it made finding my mother in my features harder then I would have liked.

My features were soft and gave me the appearance of something fragile. I knew that I could pass for a doll with my pale shade and quiet demeanour.

It made me wonder though, as I looked into my soft eyes and studied my dark hair, which of these features had come from the father that I had never seen?

In the end, I didn't exercise much that day, much of my focus instead used on trying to find as many hints of my mother as I could. Bianco staying firmly by my side and in his own way offered me support in my endeavors.

My caretaker didn't begrudge me my day spent in idle curiosity, and instead when it was time to leave gently took me into his arms, placing me with care into my crib and attaching any necessary wires as he did so. I watched curiously as he bent down to kiss my brow, a common occurrence now with him and stared as he walked out of the room, the lights dimming as he did so. Frowning in thought, I wrapped my arms tightly around my friend and pulled him close to me as I gave into slumber.

Sometimes… it's hard to hate monsters, especially when they show you kindness.

* * *

"Come now Cielo, you can do this." He murmured cheerfully as he grabbed hold of my hands, his own dwarfing mine.

Cielo.

It was odd, and sometimes I would mouth the word, frowning at the strange name I had been given. Of course I knew it wasn't my real name, it was highly doubtful that I even had one. Instead it was something one of the younger handlers had taken to calling me, and soon my caretaker had joined in as well. Though I wasn't the only one to finally have a name to go by, as finally after patient waiting (or rather pretend patience) I had learned his name as well. Lucca. It was mine and Bianco's firm opinion that we had been given the better bargain when it came to odd names, even if it did match the peculiar man.

It had been several months now since Lucca had first started to enter my room, all in the name of rebuilding my muscles. The work had been extensive, and for my infant self, far too taxing; yet I couldn't begrudge the results. I could easily sit and stand now, though walking was still a bit of an impossibility for me. I had learned early on that I hated crawling. The rough ground chafed at my skin, and ended with my knees being bruised and slightly bloodied more then once. Making my decision to never crawl again an easy one to keep to.

I frowned, looking once more at his large hands that engulfed my own, I was so small compared to him, compared to everyone really. Sometimes I felt so lost because of it, as if I were trapped in a world of giants.

"Cielo, please, for me?" He pleaded, his hazel eyes soft and comforting. I huffed at that, the soft sound leaving my lips with barely a thought. Even though a part of me still feared him, I had in truth grown used to his company. He had been the first to hold me just for the sake of being held, the first to give me something corporeal… and the first to treat me as if I were human instead of a test subject. And so while a small part of me stayed wary of him, a larger part of me grew to accept his company, eager for any small bit of affection I could receive and be given.

I closed my eyes and took a deep and fortifying breath. Then, with all the might I was capable of, I attempted to stand.

It is laughable, how something I had taken for granted in my past life, seemed so impossible now. While my feet no longer ache when I attempted this (thanks to countless hours of physical therapy), they were not truly up to holding my body upright for long, no matter how stubborn I was on this issue. Slowly and with great care my caretaker helped me to stand, moving a hand to the small of my back in case I fell. I blinked in surprise as I managed it, my head swerving from side to side as I marveled how differently things looked with just a few added inches. A small smile formed on my lips at the proud smile I received in return.

"That's it little one, that's it." Lucca whispered, his hand moving back to grab my own. "Come now, you can do it." Brows furrowed in concentration I took my first few hesitant step, my feet moving shakily as I did so. The first step was always the hardest, with the rest becoming steadily easier as time went on. Today however I was already exhausted, having been practicing this for far too long now. So it only took me several steps before I was falling forward, my legs having crumpled beneath me.

Lucca was quick however, and managed to scoop me into his arms before I hit the floor. I immediately looked up to see his expression, expecting to see a glimmer of disappointment or irritation for my shortcoming and blinked in surprise when all I saw was pride instead.

"You did good little one." He whispered warmly, ruffling my curly dark locks.

I shifted and hid my face between the base of his neck and shoulder, trying to hide my embarrassment and churning emotions.

Deep down, I knew he shouldn't be trusted. I knew I shouldn't take such comfort so easily from him. He had been there after all, he had been there when they…

I knew it and yet…

To be acknowledged… it was such a wonderful feeling.

* * *

After my progress in gaining mobility (though I could still argue on that subject being that I could only walk for several minutes at best before falling back down), it was decided that my lessons would soon begin to incorporate language as well. It had long been decided by everyone that I was mute, with most believing it to be trauma based given what occurred directly after my birth. Instead they used flash cards to teach me how certain words looked, while saying them aloud themselves in order for me to learn how said words sounded when spoken. I was like a sponge during these lessons, and soaked up all the information I could. It had been so long since I was able to read, able to truly understand what was happening around me, so any small chance to gain back that independence was welcomed with open arms.

Thanks in part to Lucca, my understanding of the Italian language had grown immensely over the past year. However, it was still little compared to how much was understood by others my age. Even with my ease-dropping on certain conversations there was only so much I could understand. The lessons helped me to better form connections with certain words, thus helping my understanding of the language to grow rapidly. This also had the added benefit of helping me to discover a few helpful titbits of my new life, which would no doubt be helpful later on.

I realized that I was in Italy, something I had already guessed long before this moment; and the men taking care of me were scientist… of a sort. They worked for a 'family' though the family's name was hard to pick up and understand, being that it was seldom mentioned. I was considered special to them, and their family was always excited to hear on my progress. Though as was usually the case, the reason for this excitement in regards to me was unclear.

It was while listening in on these conversations that I learned not all of the men in charge of me were Italian. Sometimes in their excitement over various topics they would slip into their mother tongue, and I would hear English and Asian languages swirling together and mixing with Italian till I was left utterly confused and my head aching. I was a bit envious of how so many of them were bilingual or more, and made my determination to learn as many languages as was feasibly possible grow as time went on.

A common topic to come up in their conversations was something they called a flame. At first I had thought them to be talking about an actual fire, but eventually was able to deduce that they meant something else entirely. The more reverent their tones became on this subject, the more it seemed to twinge at a faded memory of mine. Though sadly I couldn't quite recall why it felt so familiar. Yet as time went on and their excitement on this topic grew, the more a sense of unease and dread began to churn in my stomach. I knew with a chilling certainty that one day their words would make sense to me, and I would not enjoy that discovery one bit.

Whatever this flame was… I knew it would lead to change, though what type of change was as of now beyond me.

* * *

For the most part, my first few years as a captive were rather simple and peaceful when compared to my later years. The first year had been the worse, when I was left alone for hours on end with only my thoughts and memories to offer me company and solace.

After that I was finally given the company I had desperately craved, allowing for me to finally regain a sense of humanity in this dreadful place _._

In my crib, surrounded by the gentle beeping and whirring of machinery, I came to feel safe and peaceful. I wasn't happy, but nor was I miserable, in a way it was worse. I was compliant and content, having thought the worst behind me. After all, with Bianco by my side, any worries I held were easy to ignore, and I grew to think that nothing that could disturb the small world I had made for myself.

I should have known, even back then, that things could never be so simple.

I should have known from the moment I had that nightmare, of hearing my mother scream for a man who would never save her, of hearing her beg and scream for me before everything was covered in that terrible red colour…

I should have known that my stay in hell had only just begun.

I should have known…

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _And so ends chapter 2! This story from the start is AU, what with the main character being an OC and the verse a tad different, so I'm trying my best to keep them as realistic a baby as possible, which comes with it's own pitfalls at times. They're premature, by a month and a half, so they're not doing too terrible as far as their body is concerned, and will eventually develop well (besides a few slip ups here and there). All of the information on the machinery that is attached to the character is real. Premature infants need a lot of medical equipment to keep them safe and healthy, I've only mentioned the bare few actually needed._

 _If anyone is wondering, the gender of the main character will be revealed eventually, it just worked out that for now it's kept a bit ambiguous. Though in truth most of you probably have already guessed it. Also for those curious; they are related to a main character in KHR, but are not a main character themselves, guesses on who their father/who they're related to is welcome! Thank you for reading this story and please leave a review if you've enjoyed it!_

 _ **Story Fact Number 2:**_ _The main characters memories from their past life are similar to memories you gain from a dream. Some will be more prominent then others, but eventually they all fade and become blurred. A few emotions will stick out, while others will dull with time. Certain actions that occur near them can make a once dull memory become prominent again depending on what said action was._


	4. For How Long Can You Close Your Eyes

Disclaimer: Characters all belong to the wonderful Akira Amano, besides the few OC's that pop up here and there of course.

* * *

For How Long Can You Close Your Eyes

Childhood is generally regarded as a time of innocence and laughter. Of countless nights spent staring at the stars and marveling at their light, of pillow forts and soft toys begging to be held and cherished. It is a time when deep friendships are made in the span of mere moments, where adventures could be had in every corner should one merely take the time to look. The wonder of the world is great, and countless hours are spent making sense of the spectacular world in which one belongs to.

Though there also is pain to be found in childhood, from bloody knees and scrapped hands; to the simpler ones of split milk or fallen treats. In those early days a mere cold can feel like endless agony, and sniffles are a common enemy to all. Yet this pain is never meant to last, and oftentimes is quickly treated by those of whose care we are left in, until such hurts are a mere distant memory and laughter is all that can be heard once more.

Childhood is a time to look back on with a feeling of warmth and nostalgia. To smile at the thought of your silly actions and the warmth you feel from those who cared for you during your weakest moments. In my first life, this was a fact that I could attest to all too easily. Even now those memories, no matter how faded, are held dear in my heart.

Here however, any semblance of a childhood filled with nativity and innocence ended when I turned the tender age of three.

For it was then that I began to learn the cruel and harsh truth of the world I now found myself in. Childhood would remain but a distant dream to me.

Hell however…

That… I would come to know quite well.

* * *

The day had begun like any other. I had been sleeping peacefully in my room, the only machinery I was attached to being a simple IV and heart monitor. The others I had been deemed no longer in need of, and it was very rare that I found myself strapped to some type of cold machinery as I grew older.

The dim lighting of the room along with the constant hum of my monitor were constant background noises that I had grown adjusted to, their constant whirring an artificial lullaby by which I lulled myself to sleep with each night. My lights were never turned off, even if they were thankfully dimmed for me to rest easier at night. Bianco was wrapped tightly in my hold, his soft fur smelling faintly of my favourite lavender soap. He'd been washed recently, Lucca having done so during my daily exercises so as not to have me panic. It was a well known fact that I had grown attached to my friend, and any attempt to separate us was met with staunch resistance. He was after all my only friend in this world, as even Lucca with his beguiling smiles could not be fully trusted.

I was woken slowly, the handler that had come for me being new, and still not used to holding my small form. Unlike the others who showed signs of having been around small children before, he did not. His touch was always hesitant and unsure, as if to hold me would surely cause me to shatter in his arms. This of course did not mean he held any care for me, but rather that he made sure that nothing harmful were to happen while he was the one in charge of me, for fear of what his supervisors would undoubtedly say should I arrive to them injured in any shape or form.

My eyes had stayed closed during all of this, I huffed at being woken at such an early hour before leaning closer to him in search of some warmth. I had noticed that some of my handlers felt warmer to me then others and even gave off a faint sense of _something_ , though what that something was I was still uncertain of. Lucca was warm, one of my warmer handlers, and at times I wondered if his blood was constantly boiling in order to handle the heat his body gave off. This handler was also warm, but it felt young when compared to Lucca, as if his body was still new to the heat it now radiated.

The walk wasn't too long. Most of the rooms I was taken to were close to each other, the only time I could remember being led far away from a room or corridor was after my mother…

The bright lighting blinded my eyes for a moment, making me close them with a frown as I hid my face in the handler's starch cotton lab coat. Instead of the grey stone walls I had grown used to, the walls in this room were pure white in colour, giving the room an almost endless appearance.

As my eyes adjusted I came to realize with a start that this room was different from any I had ever seen before in both my lives. The walls, which I had first mistaken as being pure white seemed to be embedded with a peculiar type of machinery; it was as if the room was all one large machine. Thin iridescent strips of light ran through small breaks in the walls, each of them a different colour. They reminded me of some of my handlers, though the light they held felt off, different then what I'd been used to till now.

I was taken to the center of the room, where a chair waited for me. It was built to hold an adult, but they had taken into consideration my small height, and had thankfully added a booster seat. Above me was something I could only liken to a chandelier, made of elegantly carved clear crystal and appeared almost invisible. There was six indents cut into the stone, perhaps waiting for something to be added to them later.

The scientist in the room were all quietly conversing with each other, and it was hard to miss the feeling of fear and excitement that ran through them all in equal measure. One of them was a woman, the first I'd seen since I was placed here. She was tall, extremely so as even some of the men were several inches shorter then her. Her hair was a deep vibrant red, almost the colour of blood. Her eyes were black and cold, showing little in the way of emotion. She was different from the others. It was easy to see that she was their superior in some way, as the way they deferred to her made it quite obvious just who was in charge. Unlike them she had chosen to forgo the usual lab coat. Instead she chose to wear a skin tight black suit that left little to the imagination. The only colour on her being a small amount of deep red from her inner shirt. Her hooded eyes slowly drifted to my handler, falling on me for the briefest of moments.

"Has there been any complications?" Her voice was low and husky. I perked in surprise. She was speaking in English, and while I knew many of my handlers and caretakers were multilingual, it'd been a while since I heard my native tongue being used.

My handler shook his head in negative as he adjusted the straps on my body, making sure they were secure. "A bit irritable from being woken up, but fine besides that, he's been cleared."

She nodded, glancing my way again. "It's odd isn't it? That _his_ child would be like this?" She shook her head, a vicious smile on her lips. "Or perhaps it's fitting."

The conversations ebbed off after that. My head was caught up in what I had just learned. I knew they had known my mother, it was quite obvious or else I would not have been born here, but I had never even thought to consider that perhaps my father had also been known to them. Thoughts on him were constantly on my mind; who he could have been, where he was now and why he'd never come for us. A sickening feeling fell in the pit of my stomach as a dark thought slowly started to worm it's way into my mind.

Perhaps… perhaps he had known… had he…

Could he have been involved?

Perhaps he had been affiliated with these people? I swallowed thickly, maybe he had even sold us to them? I was not so naive as to assume such a thing was impossible. After all, I knew well enough how dark this world could be, and until I knew the truth, I could not dispute the fact that it may have been my very father that sentenced me to this dark and lonely world.

My attention flickered back to my handler as I watched in curiosity as the chandelier like machine was slowly lowered until it stood only a foot above my chest. On a closer glance I could now make out more of the intricately carved stone.

There were small symbols placed near each of the indents, the one closest to me appearing almost cloud like in form. The crystal was attached to the ceiling with delicate silver chains, and looked as though it belonged more in an elegant manor then here underground. It truly appeared to be more like a work of art then a machine, though the pure energy it was radiating alerted me to the fact that looks could be deceiving.

The woman from before reached into her pocket, pulling out beautifully carved stones that resembled the light I had seen running through the room earlier.

"So it's come to this." She murmured, her face being illuminated by the light the stones gave off.

"If this works we'll be gods." One of the men said in a hushed whisper, falling silent as she merely scoffed at him.

"And if it doesn't..." She muttered pulling out a blue stone and attaching it to an inlay in the glass. "We be looked upon as worst then the Vindice themselves, not even hell would welcome us into it's gates."

The clear glass began to turn a brilliant blue, drowning out the light from earlier as the machine hummed and seemed to glow with warmth from the small stone. It was as if a fire had been ignited inside the glass, and the flame was eager to be released. The woman looked back at me and smiled, her eyes softening ever so slightly.

"Let's see if you're as strong as your father Cielo."

With that parting she stepped back, just as the flame reached it's apex and grew solid and darker in appearance. It burst out of the glass in a thin blue line, hitting my chest and causing my eyes to widen in shock.

The fire hadn't hurt, the light hadn't harmed me like I had expected it to. I felt only calm, a forced calm but calm nonetheless. My eyes drooped and my head lolled to the side, the strength needed to keep it upright leaving me with ever passing moment. I felt groggy and tired, as if I had just woken from a nap but had wanted to stay sleeping for just a short while longer.

"Phase one complete, commencing phase two." A voice spoke out. I watched tiredly as the woman stepped closer again, this time adding a red stone to the glass inlay. The blue flame flickered and moved slowly to the edge, creating a purple colour whenever it came into contact with the red. The light from before changed, and from my quickly drooping eyes I could see what appeared to be chains of blue light running across my body.

This time from the glass center a large red flame roared itself into life. It seemed vicious and strong as it fought against the glass, trying to force it's way free from it's imprisonment. Unlike with the blue the red flame was wild as it was released, coming down upon me in a fury of sparkling red light.

The pain hit as soon as the light touched my chest.

Could I have moved, I surely would have thrashed and screamed, fought with all my might against this fire that no doubt aimed to see my death. It tore it's way deep into my core, and though there was no wound I felt as if I had been split apart, my very chest felt as though it were being tore into inch by agonizing inch. As if the flame were a dagger, the blade of red light pierced through me without mercy, not stopping until it could reach what it desired. After what felt to be an eternity, it seemed as though the flame had finally found what it had been looking for, and I naively believed the worst to be behind me.

I was wrong.

It paused for a moment, seeming to inspect my very core. I felt the light wrap itself around my center, taking a moment to consider what it now had to do. There was a deep pervading feeling of wrongness as it slowly drew itself closer to my core, and I wished for nothing more then to escape from it's hold. Then, with no warning, it pounced.

 _No no no, please stop this no-_

The pain I felt was indescribable. It felt as if the flame had grabbed hold of my very soul, and finding it unfitting, commenced in ripping and tearing it apart from it's very seams. I felt my body seize at the sensation and for the first time in this life I screamed. The sound long and haunting for all that I could barely hear it, barely notice it from beyond the unending agony that was my very being. Death would have been preferable to this torture, and in truth I was sure that I would have begged for it could I find the strength to utter anything beyond a helpless scream as the onslaught continued.

"Phase… success… three." I faintly heard the words spoken and could see movement from the corner of my eye, but it was all lost to me in the tumultuous agony I was in. I practically cried in relief when the red flame dispersed, my body still shaking in phantom pains as I heaved and shook from what had just occurred. The blue chains were all that kept me still, for without them I would have surely tried to break free or collapsed in exhaustion. I was covered in sweat, and my black hair was plastered to my cheeks. My vision was blurred from my tears and in the edges of my sight I could see spots of darkness start to appear. I could hear my loud and hoarse pants of exhaustion, my chest trying to fill itself with air in the vain hopes that it would stop the pain I was in, for even though the red light was gone, my core was still in shattered pieces.

I whimpered softly as the light changed colour, taking on a dark purple hue. _'Please let it end, please…'_ I inwardly begged, certain that I could take no more of this pain. While the flame hit my chest with the same ferocity as the red did before, I quickly noticed it was not filled with the intent to harm. Small purple hooks seemed to grabbed hold of the tattered mess that was once my core. I felt the light pulse, sending what felt like a small shock wave through my body. My eyes opened wide at the sensation as a startled gasp left my lips. The pulse seemed to pick up in intensity, and I could feel something within me shift and grow warm. At first it felt like the last few embers of a dying fire, but as the pulse continued it grew, until I felt as if my insides were being filled with a raging inferno. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The fire inside me simply grew, and just as it reached the point where I thought for certain that I would be burnt into a crisp, it stilled and for one moment I was filled with perfect clarity.

I knew how many were in the room with me, that they were all watching the proceeding with awe. I could hear the faint scratching of pen against paper, could practically make out what it was they desired to do. I could feel them. They were all scared, just in different levels. They were so desperate, so eager to disregard their own laws just to see this work. I was their final Masterpiece, for all that I still knew not why.

I could feel my body on the verge of giving out, I was too young for what they wanted to accomplish, already my heart had come close to stopping several times. I could feel that should I decide it, I could give in, and escape this pain. My heart would stop and I would die once more, but… I could also choose to live, to fight through the pain and see what comes after, no matter how terrible it was right now.

I could stop this, I could escape. It would be so easy, to simply close my eyes and give in. But…

I had never been one for the well worn path.

I needed to live, I needed to know, to know that this wasn't it. I needed to know that someday things would be better. And I needed to find him! Make him tell me why!

My heart came close to stopping, but something deep inside of me made sure that it did not come to pass, and so I continued to go on.

Even if later I would be left to wonder on whether or not I had made the right choice, for now I was certain I had.

The moment soon left me, and with it my clarity diminished as I was left feeling far more exhausted then I had ever thought myself capable of. I barely noticed as the flame changed in colour, even if I felt it's affects. Startling green, not painful for all that it made my hair stand on end. It held my core together and seemed to strengthen it. Bright and brilliant yellow, soothing as if to congratulate me for making it so far. And last but not least, gentle indigo, the last colour I was able to see before sleep finally claimed hold of me.

When I next awoke, I was once again lying in my bed, Bianco laying right beside me. With shaking hands I pulled him close, letting silent sobs escape my lips as tears fell freely from behind closed lids.

I had survived, had gone through such unimaginable torture and yet somehow survived. My chest was throbbing in pain and my skin hot and feverish, yet I was still alive, still able to breath and cry and feel.

It may have been a mistake, I may have made the wrong decision.

But I knew I would always make the same choice in the end.

It would be later that I learned the experiment had been a success. The scientist and handlers would be overjoyed with the information, once more sprouting off terminology I would have no hope of following along with. There was one thing I caught however, that caused me to feel dread deep into my bones.

What I had gone through was merely the first phase.

Eventually… my torture would begin again.

* * *

It would be a long time before I would see Lucca again, as after the success from my first test they had decided to transfer him to another 'project'. Each project had a different code name, and made me wonder not for the first time, if I truly was the only child suffering in these scientist's hands. There were several projects I would hear them discussing: Tempesta, Pioggia, Sereno, Fulmine, Nuvola, Nebbia and lastly my own; Cielo.

Elements of the sky, they would call it, their voices hushed as they whispered amongst each other. Their greatest Masterpiece...

Or…

Their greatest sin.

Which of the two they were however, was anyone's guess.

* * *

It wasn't with any great surprise that the discovery of just how much these experiments were affecting me came to pass. The affects took a while to show, and perhaps that is what allowed them all to claim ignorance. My core was constantly shattered and mended, the effects becoming worse with each passing procedure. Though for all the agony I felt, outwardly it appeared that nothing was amiss, as my skin was left smooth and unblemished, with nothing to show the torture it was constantly put under.

There was a weariness I felt, deep in my soul. My body constantly felt as if it were hanging together on burnt tattered seams, as though it needed just one more push before it could truly shatter. It was rare that a day passed without my body seizing, the effects from the flames causing me to grow ill and fevered constantly. Eventually it grew to the point that I was always exceptionally warm, and I came to realize that I could no longer feel the cold. I had never been given a blanket, it having been deemed a safety issue back when I was still attached to countless wires and machinery, later they simply deemed me not needing of one. The air where I was kept was constantly cool and damp, giving my surroundings a dungeonisque feel. Now, the cool air did little for my heated skin and even the cold baths I had once detested were now lukewarm at worst.

I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish, or why, but the results were traumatic. Before I used to enjoy having them come into my room, if only for the fact my loneliness would ebb away with their presence, but now I feared it. I would watch them fearfully, wondering if today was the day they would take me back into that horrible room, and rip me apart once more. I started to flinch from their touch and shake when held. They would comment on it, but any concerns on my mental well being were for the most part brushed off and not given much if any thought.

The experiments themselves were long and arduous. Numerous times during them I would wish to scream and beg for mercy. Yet after that first day no sound seemed to escape my throat, in a way, my muteness had now become a reality, and I wondered if I would ever have the chance to speak.

But even if I could, would they even care to hear my pleas for mercy?

* * *

It had been a little over a year now since the experiments had first begun, and the strain they were causing my body was now too blatant to be ignored. More days then not I had to be carried to the testing room, the strength to even move my fingers having become impossible. Most of my days would be spent in a semi comatose state, only slightly aware of the world around me as my eyes remained drooped and unconcerned. My body was constantly exhausted, and it became common for me to suffer fainting spells as a result.

As always, my well being for the most part was ignored, except to assure themselves that I was still physically well.

This however, soon changed.

My hair, once a beautiful inky black that I would enjoy running my fingers through had soon become a shocking white instead. It had shocked them I suppose, physical proof that what they were doing to me was too much. My body was still far too young and the shock of their continuous experiments proved to be too taxing for me to handle.

At only four years of age, I was dying, and finally they had realized it.

After this discovery, it would be a long time before I entered that horrible room again. Instead they would watch over me, trying to heal what they had almost destroyed. I was different now, something they knew just as well as I.

In a way, their plan had succeeded, in time I truly would become their greatest achievement and their darkest sin.

Though it would be many more years yet before I fully discovered the truth of the world I now lived in, and the truth of what had been done to me.

But by then… childhood… innocence… they would all fade into distant dreams as I freely entered a world filled with darkness and blood.

* * *

 **Omake**

"You'll be good for me, won't you?" Her soft and gentle voice instantly had him agreeing.

"Of course!" He shook his head vigorously, a bright smile on his lips. "I'm the future head after all!" His small chest puffed out proudly. "So any chance for me to help my Famiglia I'll gladly take!"

She smiled at him before slowly wrapping him up in her arms, making the soft scent of lavender seem to float around him. "My brave child." She murmured softly as she held him. He wanted to savour the warmth he felt as she held him, but couldn't help but frown in concern as he felt her shoulders shake. "My brave and wonderful child."

"Mama?" He questioned, trying to look up into her blue eyes that were so like his own.

"It's time to go." The stern voice seemed to break them both out of their small world, and he gulped in slight fear and trepidation as his eyes fell on to the cold ones of his father's right hand man. The man's face was all stitched up, making him look more monster then man. But he supposed that was the fate their family now had to go through since being black-listed by the Vongola.

He snarled mentally at the thought of them. They tried so hard to appear pristine and perfect, but in truth their hands were also stained in sin and blood.

There was nothing clean or holy in the world of Mafia after all, no matter what the Ninth claimed.

His hands clenched into tight fist as he moved to follow after Nerezza. Were it not for them, his family would still be strong, they would not have to cower in fear of being killed just for being braver and more willing to take risk. But now, with the experiments his family planned to do, they would rise from the ashes and take Vongola by storm! Never again would they be forced to hide away like sewer rats!

He would be a part of their new future, and would gladly do whatever was asked of him to make it a reality!

Then… perhaps then his Mama would no longer need to cry.

"Mukuro…" He paused, turning back to look into tear-stained blue eyes as his mother's lips trembled into a smile. "Be strong my child."

He smiled back. "Of course."

He would do anything for his Mama, even walk through the depths of hell should it be asked of him.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Finally it's done! I wanted this chapter to be longer to make up for the wait, but if I had tried I probably would never have gotten this chapter out. Sorry so much for the wait and thank you to everyone who reviewed, I hope you all keep enjoying this story as it continues!_

 _There will be several more Omakes on Mukuro before the Fated Day, and maybe on other characters too should anyone ask after them, though finally we have a great reveal on certain aspects of this story, that will probably help along everyone's understanding as things go on, though don't be afraid to ask questions should anything confuse you. Thank you again and please review if you've enjoyed reading! They help greatly and always make me feel happy to know this story is enjoyed._

* * *

 **Story Fact:** The 'Fated Day' takes place when Mukuro is 10, currently he's 6.


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